


"Peterick doesn't exist"

by mushroomnoodles



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 14:18:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4609896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mushroomnoodles/pseuds/mushroomnoodles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick can't stand this Peterick thing anymore. He tells Pete to stop being so clingy, and his reaction surprises Patrick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Peterick doesn't exist"

“Pete, I’ve been telling you for two years now,” Patrick began, after he had found himself alone with the bassist, making sure the other guys could not hear them. His eyes were hard, monitory.

Pete looked confused. He blinked twice, like he was trying to understand, to remember.

"Your hand, Pete. Earlier, on stage. You mustn’t touch me like that. You can’t interact with me like that."

The bassist still couldn’t understand what Patrick meant. What was he talking about? Where did he go wrong?

"Pete. You grabbed my ass during Saturday! And the audience SAW it!” Patrick’s voice got an octave higher. “We must stop this shit. All this spread of “peterick” among our fans is really annoying the shit out of me."

Pete mimed an "oh" with his mouth, not making any sound. He spoke after a while. “Okay. But why does it bother you so much? We’ve been acting like this since we started out. If I had known it made you this uncomfortable, I would’ve stopped.”

Patrick sighed. "Pete, it isn’t what you do that makes me uncomfortable. We’re best friends, we’ve known each other forever. I just can’t stand our fans’ reactions, that they look at us like we were a couple.”

"I still don’t get why it bothers you so much."

"It just ain’t true. Simple as that. I don’t want false information to be spread.”

Pete didn’t know what to say. Well, he knew what he _should_ say: something like “okay, it’s not gonna happen again” or some stupid Pete-Wentz-like joke to play it down, have a laugh and then leave, like nothing had happend. In that moment, however, he seemed to have lost every cognitive ability and kept his mouth shut. 

"Got it?" Patrick asked him, with a more reassuring voice than before; noticing how Pete had reacted, he thought he may have hurt his friend. It wasn’t his intention at all, so he put an hand on his shoulder to show him that their relationship wouldn’t change after this.

"Let’s start now, then. Don’t touch me,” Pete said, forcefully removing the singer’s hand from his shoulder. He turned away and got out of the door, slamming it behind him. The noise caught Andy and Joe’s attention. They were watching a match on tv; they switched it off and gave Patrick a questioning look. Patrick returned their glance: he had no idea what the hell had just happened.

"What did you say to Mr. Drama Queen?" Joe asked. "What’s wrong with him?"

Patrick shook his head barely and grimaced. "I told him to stop getting so close to me all the time and to avoid groping me while we’re performing. That’s all.”

No one said anything because no one knew what to do, but then Andy shrug. “That’s how he expresses himself, Patrick. I fear he may feel rejected.”  
The singer sighed.

"He’s so touchy." A note of resignation was clear in his comment. “I’ll go talk to him.”

Patrick got out of the room and found Pete in the lobby, sat on the floor, only few feet away from their door. His head was resting on his bended knees. Patrick thought he looked so vulnerable, all crouched like that; sense of guilt started to spread in his chest, even though he still couldn’t figure out why the bassist got so upset about it.

“Pete?” his voice was a whisper. “Hey?”

The boy didn’t answer, he didn’t even raise his gaze, but Patrick decided to go ahead anyway. “Look. I didn’t mean to hurt you, to restrict your genius, or, I don’t know, your personality or the way you express yourself. I know that’s who you are. I know you don’t like sticking to rules, being told what to do. I didn’t mean to inhibit you. I’m just worried about publicity, media and whatnot, you know. It wasn’t meant to offend you.”

Pete raised his head and offered Patrick his big swollen eyes. He swallowed, trying not to make his voice sound shaky.  
"You said ‘the way you express yourself’, and I think you got it right.”

“Yeah, well. Andy suggested that to me, but –”

"No no no, Patrick. You don’t understand what I’m talking about." Pete closed his eyes for several seconds, and when he opened them again his voice was braver and firmer. “That’s NOT how I express superstar-Pete Wentz, the guy who plays bass in Fall Out Boy. That’s the way I express the real me, and I really don’t care whether other people witness it or not…”

"I’m sorry but I don’t get it. If you don’t do it for everyone to see, then why do you do it?”

“To make you understand what I can’t say with words.”

“To make _me_ understand?” Patrick frowned. “What is it that you can’t tell me?”

“Patrick. I could never stop touching you. I could never stop watching you with dreamy eyes. I need to stay next to you, to hear you sing closely, to smell your sweat that reminds me of passion, dedication and hard work. I can’t accept not having physical contact with you anymore, because I’m desperate for it. I’m desperate to touch you. I want to admire you. Well, actually I wish I could love you. That’s it. I love you, Patrick, but I can’t do it privately. It’s easier on stage, since we all let ourselves be a little looser. When we perform – that’s the only moment when it’s okay for me to love you. It was my little secret. It’s crazy and maniacal, I know, right. And it’s crazy that I love you, too. I just need to stop. I’ll just shut up and silence my feelings. Peterick doesn’t exist.”

Pete’s eyes reddened, a shade of red that was contaminating the white around his irises, as if his innocence – if Patrick had ever considered him innocent - was now irremediably stained with sin.

“Pete I… I had no clue.”

"I know."

"I was brutal."

"Nah – it’s my fault. I always let wrong feelings catch me.”

"There’s no such thing as ‘wrong feelings’."

"Ah yeah? And what is _this_ to you?" Pete grunted. "I wish I kept my mouth shut."

Patrick looked at the boy in the eyes for a moment, an impassive look on his face. He looked like he was about to say something, and Pete thought his heart wanted to smash his rib cage and forsake him. His voice broke down. "Patrick… Say something… Please.

Patrick closed his eyes shut, and Pete did the same. It was over.

Pete could not see that Patrick was approaching to his face, and when he could sense his breath on his cheek, Patrick was already kissing him. It was languid and it wasn’t short-lived. The singer’s tongue moved slowly, lingering every now and then; he wanted to taste that moment and everything it had to offer. The bass-player followed him, and was soon lead to a field of joy and want.

"Your mistake," Patrick said once they broke the kiss, “was taking for granted that I didn’t love you back.”

Pete opened his eyes wide. "Wait, you’re saying that…"

"That I want it at least as mush as you want it. It broke my heart that you were doing all those things to me on stage, because I thought I would never really have you. But there’s no need to pretend anymore. We can love each other here, in real life.”

“Can we? For real?”

“We _have to_. If your heart wants. I know mine does.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you notice any grammar/syntax/anything mistake, please let me know! This story was simple, one of the simplest I've ever written, because it's the first I wrote in English and I didn't want to mess up. Also, it's my first story ever on here. So, uh. I just hope it didn't suck


End file.
